


Untitled 5+1 Fic in C Minor

by Bluebird_Rose



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Animal Death, Asgardians have a yearly summer orgy on the solstice, Cuddling, Food Issues, Growing Up, Hopeful Ending, Hospitalization, Hunting, Kid Loki and Kid Thor (Marvel), M/M, Puberty, Thor and Loki are related, and also don't think about the mosquitos, at least they they think they are, don't think about how gross and sweaty that would be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebird_Rose/pseuds/Bluebird_Rose
Summary: Five times Thor and Loki were pulled apart by differences and low self esteem and unspeakable longing, and one time they reached out to each other.According to German music theorist and composer John Mattheson, C Minor is:Innocently Sad, Love-Sick. Declarations of love and lamenting lost love or unhappy relationships. It is languishing and full of longing, a soul in search of something different.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	Untitled 5+1 Fic in C Minor

**Author's Note:**

> All my appreciation to my beta [willowthewitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowthewitch/pseuds/willowthewitch) for yellin at me when I was in the garbage can about this fic, and also helping make it a readable fic instead of a pile of emotions and impressions.
> 
> Thor is kind of a jerk at some points in this story, but in the way that I think siblings often can be—they have an idea of the relationship in their minds, and take it for granted that things will never change, so the relationship can drift apart without realizing it. But Thor truly does love Loki, even if he is bad at showing it sometimes.

****

**\---(1)---**

Loki has always hated soup.

It’s too hot, no matter what his big brother says, and it burns his little tongue so much that he can’t taste anything for hours after. He refuses it as often as he can, but at formal state dinners he cannot always afford to be picky or spoiled and risk Odin’s criticism. Soup is always served first in the meal too—which means that he never enjoys formal meals with the royal family. He can only try to eat quickly and quietly and as little as possible past the pain in his tongue.

This feast is a particularly special one—a hundred years since the end of the war with Jotunheim, celebrating the era of peace and prosperity it has brought to the nine realms. The menu is set to feature dishes representing the whole of the Asgardian empire, and Representatives from each of the important realms are in attendance. All save Jotunheim—they may technically be in an era of peace, but there is no need to incite bad feelings by inviting the loser to a victory feast.

Loki sits at the royal table at the front of the dining hall, clothed in his most formal leathers. He is still too short for his feet to touch the floor, so a small box has been provided. Odin gave him a sharp glare earlier when he began tapping out a nervous pattern on the box with his toes, so he is taking care to sit properly and not fidget. It is important to show decorum befitting of a prince of the house of Odin. Thor sits between him and his father, finally tall enough to do away with his own little box, glowing with pride at the achievement. 

The first dish is, as expected, a soup. A seasonal specialty dish full of delicacies from Jotunheim’s summer sea. It’s pale green and cloudy, strange to Loki’s eyes, with mysterious shapes floating half obscured even in the shallow bowls, giving off a scent reminiscent of low tide.

Thor takes the first spoonful of the soup and freezes in his seat, turning a bit green. He does not make a fuss over it, but has to fight for several seconds to swallow down his mouthful. Thor is already well known for his prodigious appetite even at their relatively young age, so this incites a few murmurs from the sharp-eyed observers. King Odin and Queen Frigga also take only a single token spoonful, though their faces do not reflect Thor’s grimace.

Loki is already dreading it, but the rest of the high table has already taken their token servings, and refusing a dish at this important celebration of symbolic unity would have much more dire consequences than a little pain. He hesitantly spoons a bit of the soup into his mouth, flinching a little at the anticipated burn—but is shocked to find the experience painless. The soup is lukewarm, tasting only of the sea and fish and fresh green things, salty and delicious. Loki maintains his decorum, but wastes no time downing the rest of the soup, marveling equally at the delicious flavor and lack of pain.

In the end Loki is the only one to empty his bowl.

\---------

After the feast, Thor and Loki retire to their bedroom while the king and queen host the evening festivities. Although they have been put to bed separately, soon after one of the maids turns out the lights in their chamber Loki finds Thor wiggling under his covers as usual. He attaches himself to Loki like a limpet, wiggling and shoving him until he's arranged to Thor's satisfaction. They end up with Loki’s back pressed to Thor’s front, one of Thor’s arms over his waist and the other in Loki’s silky black hair.

After a while Thor finally speaks. "Loki?"

"Yes?"

"I can't believe they served us Jotun soup. Starting off a feast like that!"

"This feast was to honor all the nine realms. They could hardly be left out, Thor."

"Yeah but, a frozen slimy, rotten fish soup? If that's the best Jotunheim has to offer…" Thor trails off with a shudder.

"You found it frozen and slimy?" Loki asks quietly.

"It was awful! Might as well just drink the meltwater from the displays at the fish markets. I can't believe you ate the whole thing, brother. Were you trying to show me up?”

Loki is silent.

“It’s true father says a warrior needs an iron stomach, but you pushed yourself too far. You couldn’t even finish your Asgardian sun-cured meat later, and that’s the best course!”

“I knew you liked it best brother, so I didn’t mind you stealing bites from my plate,” Loki says quietly.

“It _is_ my favorite,” Thor says with a yawn. “Scoot over some more, I can’t get warm.”

Loki obligingly snuggles closer to Thor’s chest, making sure they are fully tucked together under the covers. His brother’s loud snores soon fill his chamber, but Loki lies awake. 

The soup was the best thing he can remember eating. Thor describes it as if it was unpleasantly cold, a slush filled with fish bones and eyeballs and scales. Loki remembers a delicately flavored soup with tender whole small fish and fresh seaweed, lukewarm at best. 

He does his best to put it out of his mind. 

Only once does he ask the chefs to make him the soup again. He is dismayed to learn the small fish and tender kelps are not found in Asgard, and all trade with Jotunheim has ceased. The giants are left to their own devices these days. 

Sometimes in the night he still dreams of the soup, and the craving doesn’t leave him for days.

****

**\---(2)---**

Thor is growing a beard.

When he first showed off the wispy strands that sprouted from his chin in the baths, Loki teased him, squinting and tilting his head before declaring the hairs a figment of Thor's overtired mind. Unperturbed, Thor grabbed Loki's hand and brought it to his chin for him to feel the soft strands, light blonde and almost invisible but unmistakably there. In the weeks since those wisps have sprouted into a good growth of beard—not nearly as thick and impressive as those of some of the full-grown warriors, but definitely the most impressive of the boys their age.

Loki is transfixed by it. How it moves with the skin underneath when Thor gives one of his unrestrained grins, how his rough fingers brush through it in thought, even how drink clings to it when Thor’s quaffing gets out of hand.

One hot afternoon Thor takes his shirt off to spar, and Loki is stunned to find that even the swell of his muscles are covered in downy hair. Not a lot, but there’s definitely a dusting over his pecs, his forearms, even a little trail running into his breeches. He grapples with the other trainees in the dirt, and the soil gets trapped in the curls, leaving streaks behind on his skin when he wipes the sweat from his brow and neck. Thor laughs, bright and shining, and Loki looks away.

Thor shines all over. His hair has lightened even more under the summer sun until it's the purest gold, contrasting with his skin that's become a burnished bronze. He's always close to the other boys now, touching them, hugging them, stripping off to wrestle in the dirt, pulling one or another to him in the shared baths to flex and wrestle and compare his growing body against those of his friends. Who has the biggest biceps? Whose cock is the most impressive? Who can take the hardest hit to the belly without flinching? Every time Thor comes out on top, as befits a son of Odin.

That night Loki decides to skip out on the visit to the shared baths, choosing instead to bathe in his private bathing chamber. He examines his body in the floor length mirror, turning this way and that. He is not exactly scrawny anymore, that much can be said. A charitable observer might even describe him as lithe. He has been able to build some muscles, thin ropy ones that stand out on his arms when he flexes just so. His shoulders also have grown broader, though his waist nips in as severely as ever. 

Loki’s fingers pass over his own smooth chin once, twice, then he forces his hand down by his side. He has tried growing his own beard the past few weeks to no effect. At best he can produce a couple of scraggly strands of hair, but they are barely enough to feel under his own searching fingertips. He can’t dare show off this anemic effort to Thor. His chest is still as hairless as his chin. His arms and legs are smooth and pale—far from Thor’s bronzed muscularity. His cock too remains a modest, quiescent thing, simply resting there between his legs.

He is as he has always been. A pale shadow to the sun prince.

The next morning when he is choosing his clothing he goes for longer leggings, a long-sleeved shirt, and a tunic that covers him to the neck. He will catch up soon, and in the meantime there is no need to show off like a strutting popinjay. He will have the chance to be bolder when he comes into his full growth, when he too learns to shine like the sun. In the meantime he will dress carefully and modestly to cover what he lacks.

Surely it won’t be long until he catches up.

****

**\---(3)---**

Thor has many friends among the warriors in training. They meet daily to spar and train. Loki joins when he can and does his best to keep up, but he is thrown in the dirt more often than he is victorious. He rises again and again, and eventually manages to beat all the warriors his own age and even some a little older than him. Still, the idea of beating Thor, throwing him into the dust of the ring as he often does to Loki, is little more than a dream.

That is, until they start studying combat seidr.

All warriors of Asgard study combat seidr once they master the basic physical skills. The trainees are taught basic enhancement—infusing power into their muscles to help heavy attacks land heavier, strengthening defenses against enemy blows that would shatter vulnerable ribs, minor healing for those with the aptitude—but Loki is completely different.

He quickly moves beyond the simple physical enhancement and shield weavings the other warriors learn and develops his own form of seidr. He is soon recommended for advanced classes with the best combat seidrmanders, and it is not long until he is able to master skills his classmates have not even heard of—storing and retrieving weapons from otherspace, illusory magic, even elemental seidr. He also starts developing a fighting style to suit his slender frame. He may not be able to beat his foes into submission, but he can escape from any hold, wiggling like a greased eel around opponents three times his size and using his wooden practice daggers to dig into tender pressure points.

\---------

Thor loves watching his little brother fight.

It’s better than the best acrobatic shows! He wiggles and evades like a landed fish, dodging and flipping and twisting until his opponent is suddenly felled by a quick jab that steals the strength from their legs or the breath from their throats. It is a pity that Loki has to resort to such low trickery to defeat his opponents, but everyone needs a little support at first. He is sure that with time Loki will grow strong enough to abandon these silly and unsporting tricks to fight like a true warrior. Until then, watching his brother fight is a little break for the rest of the warriors (except whoever is currently being humiliated), a good bit of entertainment between the real matches.

Until the day Thor and Loki are finally paired up.

They start out circling each other cautiously. Thor is confident in his superior strength and abilities, but it wouldn’t be sporting to hurt Loki too much. He takes a few swings at Loki with his practice sword, but Loki dodges easily out of the way each time. Loki draws his ensorcelled practice daggers, blunt but burning cold. He takes a few swipes at Thor, dodges them in turn.

After a couple minutes the other watching warriors start getting bored, calling out to Thor to “just beat him already!” and “quit circling each other like maidens at a dance!”

Loki suddenly darts in, and Thor is too slow to bring his shield up. He spins through a front flip, his long overtunic fluttering through Thor’s field of vision distractingly. Thor reaches out to try to grab the tunic and throw Loki to the ground, but somehow Loki’s legs come down on his outstretched arm in a punishing blow, throwing him off balance. Loki takes advantage of Thor’s momentary embarrassment and slashes out, landing a fair blow. Thor rolls away and recovers, bringing his shield up. He glances down at his burning and stinging arm to find Loki’s daggers have left twin paths of frostbite on his skin.

It has been long enough, Thor decides. No one can say that he was too hard on Loki, that he didn’t give his brother a chance. He rushes at Loki, swinging his blunted sword with all of his might to land a blow that will be sure to bring him down but not injure him beyond reason—but his sword swishes through empty air as his brother takes a quick step sideways and disappears.

Thor is stunned for the split second it takes to recover. He brings his shield up close to his body and whirls around, ready to catch the blow from behind he is expecting—he has seen Loki do this move a hundred times in practice—but nothing crashes against his shield. A darting glance around the ring shows that Loki is missing entirely. Did he scare his brother so much that he retreated?

An almost silent creak of leather from above is his only warning he gets as Loki somehow crashes down on his shoulders from _above_ , wrapping his thighs around Thor’s neck and bringing him to the ground. His sword and shield fall from his grasp as he hits the packed dirt hard, knocking the breath out of him. His brother’s thigh is against his nose and mouth, and it is difficult to take in air. He tries to bite down, but the thick leather protects Loki's inner thigh from his teeth. He freezes as the burning tip of one of his brother’s daggers pokes at the vulnerable skin behind his ear.

“Do you yield, brother?” Loki asks in a playful tone, not even winded. Thor gives a wriggle, trying to escape Loki’s hold, but the burn of the knife and his rapidly growing need to breathe keep him practically helpless. He hears the murmurs of the other warriors, observing, and is suddenly seized with a twist of anxiety. A single careful nod and Loki is off him, rolling off his shoulders and to his feet in one acrobatic twist.

Thor staggers to his feet, his embarrassment and anger splotched across his face. What was that? He had lost!? 

Their fighting master calls out, “Shake hands and leave the ring as allies.” Loki approaches Thor with arm extended, face bright with pride. “I did pretty well, huh brother? Are you sure you didn’t take it easy on me?”

Thor shakes his hand long enough to save face, then whirls and storms out of the ring, leaving Loki behind, standing alone. How dare he be proud of using such underhanded, honorless tactics? In fact, it was barely a win at all, more like a trick. When will Loki learn to fight like a real warrior?

Loki watches his brother go, and the thrill of victory slowly drains away leaving nothing but ice.

****

**\---(4)---**

Loki never does learn to fight honorably like Thor, but there is no denying that his tactics are useful in hunting. He can use his weavings to run through the woods swifter than any deer, fly through the sky on the wings of a bird, and even step through space to help herd their prey as they wish. Thor reasons that as long as the beast is eventually felled honorably by himself or his friends it matters less how it comes to them, so he makes sure to invite Loki along on their hunting trip to the north.

They are sent by the Allfather himself to bring down a vetrbjörn that has been terrorizing the local villagers. Vetrbjörn are terrifying bear-like creatures imported from Jotunheim before the war. They usually live only on the highest peaks of Asgard’s mountains where the air is cool enough for them to survive, but occasionally during very cold winters a lone beast will wander down the mountain during a blizzard. When the weather clears, leaving it cut off from its usual feeding grounds it will usually turn to harassing the local homesteads, stealing goats and even the occasional cow to survive.

This time Loki and the Warriors Three herd the vetrbjörn into the trap designed by Loki, running it uphill and down through twisting paths and doing their best to injure the creature as it battles with them. There are a few tense moments when Hogun falls and twists his ankle on a patch of hidden ice, but it serves as enough of a distraction that Thor finally manages to bring the beast down with a single mighty blow.

They butcher the vetrbjörn in the field and bring the meat back to the villagers, leaving the innards and less desirable parts behind for scavengers. Loki carefully cleans the skin and uses a bit of seidr to quick-tan it, and Thor wears the pelt over his shoulders like a great cloak on their victorious march back to the village, Hogun limping along with a hand over Volstagg’s shoulders.

The village welcomes them back with open arms. Villagers immediately seize the meat, putting some in storage to make up for what the beast had stolen and building a great fire to roast the rest in celebration of the hunt. The village can’t be foolhardy in their feast this far from spring so the ale flows like a stream not like a river, but spirits are high and smiles paint almost every face despite the winter gloom. Thor even manages to cajole Loki into being pulled to the front of the feast table, a place of honor, and sharing a poem with them—a leaping twisting verse that he composes on the spot to celebrate their victory.

\---------

After the feast the peasants pull out their humble instruments and a band is hastily assembled, strings singing under the bright winter sky. Soon enough the dancing starts, men twirling and stomping, swinging their partners around so their skirts fly high. Loki watches dancers, the paths of the intertwined steps and partner changes weaving a pattern only he can see. If he looks close enough, he could almost—

“Dance with me,” Thor says, startling Loki out of his observations. Thor is standing there, bathed in the firelight, one hand held out to Loki. His eyes glitter with mirth. 

“What?” Loki asks, thrown off.

“Dance with me, brother!” Thor says again, giving a little beckon with his outstretched hand..

Loki sits frozen for a long moment. “Thor, I—”

“Oh don’t dance with that cold fish!” yells Fandral, suddenly leaping between them. He seizes Thor by his outstretched hand and pulls, swinging him into a spin. “Dance with me instead, Thor!”

“Fandra—” Thor starts, but Fandral stops him by pressing a wet kiss to Thor’s bristly cheek. It seems like Fandral has had slightly more than his allotted amount of ale this evening.

Thor gives Loki an apologetic glance over his shoulder as he’s tugged into the throng of dancers, but quickly takes up the rhythm and weaves himself and Fandral into the pattern. After a few seconds he and Fandral are weaving and kicking with the rest of the peasants, colored threads in a moving tapestry. Thor throws his head back and laughs, white teeth shining in the firelight.

Thor dances with Fandral, then Sif, then what seems like half the villagers. He even takes Volstagg for a quick spin around the circle, though Volstagg leads in that one, tossing Thor high enough that the timing of the dance is almost thrown off. 

Thor doesn’t look back to him even once.

The final dance of the night is a slow one, an old court dance made common for peasants. Loki recognizes the opening strains of the tune, and his heart beats a little faster. Surely this is where Thor will invite him back into the circle? He’ll be ready this time. He might even say yes.

Thor instead chooses a lovely maid from the throng of villagers, skin pale as milk, hair dark as night, a plain but pretty green dress wrapped around her lithe form. Thor presses a genteel kiss to her hand in invitation, raising an eyebrow. The girl giggles and hides her smile behind her hand as she accepts with a wobbly curtsey. For the rest of her life she will tell her children about the dance she shared with the handsome prince in midwinter, Loki bets.

Loki goes back to their inn. He isn’t one for dancing anyway.

****

**\---(5)---**

The day of the long-awaited summer fertility festival finally arrives, and Thor is beside himself with excitement. The festival is the highlight of the Asgardian year (for Thor), with delicious foods (Thor’s favorites), exciting dances (for which Thor never lacks a partner), feats of strength (which Thor almost won last year), and beautiful visitors from all over the nine realms making their way to Asgard for the high summer fertility rites.

The rites are Thor’s favorite part of the festival. Men and women and those between exchange trinkets all day to express their intentions for the evening—from tiny jeweled bells that request a kiss lasting only moments, to intricate filigree brooches and jeweled daggers that invite the recipient to spend hours making love. The promises are not fulfilled until the coolness of evening under the bright summer moon, so during the day there is time to search for partners, exchange gifts, eat, drink, and take in the sights and sounds of a city on fire under the bright summer sun.

Loki and Thor make their way around the marketplace. Thor is dressed as befits the festival, a light tunic and breeches that can be easily removed for the evening festivities. Loki wears a variation of his usual outfit, dressed from neck to ankle in beautiful dark green tooled leather with only a small gold cloak clasp as decoration (more function than accessory). After all, on the day of the summer festival it is the height of idiocy to wear your own jewelry. Each Asgardian instead hopes to be strung with sparkling promises from admirers by evening.

Thor has already collected small trinkets from dozens of admirers, and even a few larger ones from those strong or beautiful or intriguing enough to stand out from the crowd. They decorate his ears and neck and fingers, sparkling and glittering in the strong sun. As usual, Loki receives nothing and does not expect anything. The revelers only have one night to spend fulfilling their promises after all, and the shortest of the year at that. Who would want to waste time on the prince’s strange cold fish of a younger brother? Even the brief moment stolen by a peck of a kiss with him would be too much.

Loki does his best to keep up with Thor in the heat, but he gets more and more worn out. He begins to long for a break, a moment to sit with Thor in the shade and eat some frozen fruits from a street seller. The cool wafting off his cart feels heavenly to Loki, and the glitter of the ice on grapes and berries and melon is sending an irresistible siren’s call to his parched throat. 

“Brother,” Loki calls, and Thor turns away from a disappointed maid trying to clip some small token or other to the tinkling chain around his neck. “Can we sit down for just a moment?”

“Are you tired already Loki?” Thor asks jovially. “There are still a few hours until the night’s festivities, you can’t be lagging already!”

“I just wanted some fruits...”

“Can you wait for a bit? The air dancers are about to start their show, and you look forward to those every year.”

That’s not true at all—Loki could take or leave the air dancing troupe, but ever since Thor bedded their lead three summers ago he has made a point of providing them with his patronage at every festival. The acrobats themselves are quite skilled, hauling themselves into the air seemingly effortlessly, wrapping themselves in cocoons of colored silk, flying through the sky free of gravity’s bonds. But if Loki wants to fly he can just grow wings instead of relying on woven ones of that kind.

“I just-”

“Quit being spoiled, Loki, we’ll get you a little snack after the show.”

Loki swallows down his objections and goes with Thor to the show held in the courtyard in front of the palace. The sun beats down on the crowd, turning all the other Asgardians golden where it kisses them. Loki only grows paler and paler.

A cheer rings through the crowd when the dancers appear. They are carrying long poles with silk sheets attached to the ends, the other end of the sheet wrapped around their torsos. The silk is of every color, bright and flashing in the sunlight. They are a flock of exotic birds, a school of tropical fish, a treasure chest of jewels fit for a king. Thor’s eyes quickly find his favorite, the lithe, dark-haired man who leads the troupe, and he gives a quick whistle of appreciation before the show begins. 

The silk show is indeed amazing—the flyers flip in and out amongst the silk sheets, rolling them up, braiding them together, weaving and twisting and climbing. They spin and flutter until their silk sheets make it look like they are swimming through the air, the heat in the air is swimming, the whole world is swimming and weaving and rolling around him, and Loki passes out.

Thor, enthralled by the show, doesn’t notice his brother’s tight grip on his shoulder loosening until it slips away and Loki hits the ground hard. 

“Loki?”

He kneels down and shakes Loki, but he does not respond. His face is milk white and his heartbeat is fluttering under Thor’s broad palm like a trapped and terrified mouse. Thor is hit with a bolt of fear that chills him to his core—what happened? Has Loki been poisoned or attacked? In a moment Thor has scooped him up, sickened by how his head rolls loosely on his neck, and rushes them toward the palace and the cool interior of the healing wing.

He kicks open the door of the wing with a bellowed, “Help! Please! My brother is dying! Help him!”

The healers rush to him and pluck Loki from his strong arms, laying him on a bed and wasting no time in stripping him to his skin. Thor looks away. These days Loki so rarely shows his body, and he knows instinctively that he would be embarrassed to have Thor see him like this.

After a quick examination, the lead healer sits back and sighs. “He just overheated again. Let’s get the sheets.”

Thor feels a rush of relief flood through him. Loki has not been poisoned on his watch! It is soon replaced with a brush of disquiet. Overheated? Again?

The healers soon cover Loki with a silk sheet, stark white and dripping with cool water. They pour a bit of medicine into his unresisting mouth, rubbing his long neck to ensure it is swallowed instead of inhaled. Their hands touch his bare skin, taking his temperature and arranging his limbs and washing away the bit of blood from where his fall scraped his cheek, and then they move away to allow him to recover.

It seems they are old hands at this, Thor thinks. 

Thor knows he has dozens of promises to make good that evening, and that his brother will be safe under the careful eye of the healers, but he finds himself reluctant to leave Loki’s side. He sits beside his brother as the sun sets, waiting for Loki to come back to his senses.

\---------

Just as the sun is setting and the evening festivities are set to begin, Loki’s dark eyelashes flutter against his pale skin as he awakes. Thor sits up from where he has been slumped at Loki’s bedside. Loki eyes are still a bit unfocused, but Thor clears his throat and they shoot to him, on guard.

“Thor,” Loki says in a raspy voice.

Thor rushes to pour him a drink of honeyed lemonwater from the cool pitcher at this side. Loki sits up a bit to take the cup, and the sheet falls down to his waist. His brother’s chest is still as pale and hairless as when he was a boy, though thin muscles now form a layer over the toast rack ribs that lay there before.

Loki seems to notice Thor’s staring as he finishes off the small cup of juice, and he pulls the sheet up to cover himself self-consciously. 

Suddenly embarrassed (why?) Thor is filled with the need to cover his fluster by chiding Loki for pushing himself too hard. 

“Loki, the healers say this has happened before?”

Loki glances away, giving a shrug and pulling the sheet up higher.

“You should take better care of yourself, brother. If you know you are afflicted so, why go out into the heat at all? I know you enjoy the sights, but there is no need to risk your health just to take in what you can easily see from your window. I mean, it’s not as if you receive any trinkets that would warrant going out anyway.”

“So I should live like a caged bird because I will not be chosen anyway?” Loki shoots back, irritated. “It would be the height of foolishness to even hope?” 

He and Thor sit there for one long, uncomfortable moment, broken only by the soft chimes and clinks of Thor’s bells and offerings as he shifts.

“I’m sure one day you will receive even more trinkets than I, brother.” Thor says, conciliatory. “Just give it time.”

Loki says nothing.

Thor reaches into his pouch and pulls one of his smaller trinkets, a model of Mjolnir in bronze with a silver clasp. “It’s not foolish to hope, brother,” he says softly, placing it in the still damp sheets over Loki’s lap.

He reaches out and lays one large hand on Loki’s shoulder, burning hot against his cool skin. Loki turns to him, green eyes large and shocked, as Thor pulls him closer. He leans in and presses a warm kiss against Loki’s forehead, nuzzling him a bit.

“Thor…” the word falls unbidden from Loki’s lips, half a whisper.

Thor pulls back from the kiss, his smile smaller than usual. “It’s never foolish to hope,” he says once more. 

Loki stares at him for one long moment, trembling slightly, before he turns away. 

They both sit there for a long moment, silence yawning like a void.

“I must away, brother,” Thor says at last, slapping his thighs and standing up in one smooth movement. “Please rest and recover quickly, and we will soon be back to our old tricks.” 

He turns and leaves, striding away through the doors of the healing wing. 

Loki watches him go and doesn’t say a word, hammer clenched in a tight fist over his heart.

****

**\---(+1)---**

Thor has always been the kind of good brother who doesn't mind if his little brother tags along with him and his friends on their quests and travels. When he and Loki run alongside each other in hunts, or fight together in sparring battles, or Loki stands still and examines some trinket or other in the markets and Thor lets his eyes roam over his brother’s visage without risk of him seeing, a bright warm flame sparks inside of him and he feels truly glad to have a brother.

But one day, coming back from an unsuccessful bilgesnipe hunt with the Warriors and Sif he realizes Loki hasn’t been at his side or his back for a while. When did Loki stop joining them? In fact, now that he thinks about it, there are lots of things Loki doesn't do anymore. He used to throw a fit when Thor refused to share a snack or treat, but now he doesn’t even expect to be offered a taste. He used to knock on Thor's door all the time, bothering him about this or that or yelling at him for one imagined slight or another, but now he never comes by. He used to ask his brother a hundred questions a day about everything, but now he’s always got his head in a book instead. They used to hunt, and spar, and chase girls, and get drunk, but now he can't even remember the last time they really talked.

Thor is glad Loki is finally becoming more independent. He never really fit in with Thor’s friends anyway, and it’s good to see Loki branching out and making his own way. But this realization also comes with a vague ache—shouldn't he be happy about this? 

There is no helping it. He must confront Loki about this. He and Loki will talk it out, he will figure out what the problem is, they will fix it, and everything will be fine and go back to how it used to be. After dropping off his hunting equipment and armor in his room, he goes off in search of Loki.

He goes to his brother's rooms first. Loki loves to spend time in his rooms, fiddling with this or that and running his little seidr experiments. He hasn’t been to his brother’s door in forever, but it is still the same as ever—same “Keep Out” sign in Loki's cramped chicken scratch on the door, same scuffs and dents from the many times Thor has kicked it, demanding entry. Thor has learned politeness though, and he knocks on the door. There is no reply from Loki. That’s strange. He tries to push his way in, but is met with a light zap of punishing seidr, and the barrier over the door becomes visible, shining green. When did Loki start warding his room against Thor?

He decides to go where he remembers finding Loki before—the kitchens. He and Loki used to sneak down here all the time and steal pies and apples, even though it was mostly Thor who ate them. He finds no sign of his brother in the heat of the kitchens, but he does get a delicious snack of a hand pie from Cook (who still gives him a little cheek pinch whenever she sees him, no matter how tall he grows). None of the kitchen workers have seen Loki at all today, and in fact seem puzzled at Thor asking after him there.

He chews on the hand pie as he heads toward his next destination: the training grounds. Loki used to spend hours out here, watching the other warriors train and developing his strategies, even giving Thor pointers when he would listen, but again Loki is nowhere to be found. Thor only finds a number of practice swords lying abandoned in the dirt, so he takes a few moments to put them away properly before moving on.

He finally finds Loki in the library, a place Thor usually avoids at all costs because the librarian scolds him for being too loud and he doesn't like to read anyway. If there is anything important he needs to know someone will just tell him. Loki is sitting at one of the reading tables with books piled up around him. Thor almost doesn’t recognize him at first—the library is dim, and the magelight Loki has conjured for reading washes him out until his already pale face is bone-white. With his long sleeves, a high collar, hair neatly combed and oiled, brows gently arched as he reads, he almost looks like some kind of doll, posed motionless in his chair. What happened to the awkward, disheveled brother Thor used to have?

And now that he's standing here in front of Loki, he finds he has no idea what to say.

Loki glances up and gives a little start, as if surprised to see Thor before him in the library. He gently closes his book, saving his place with a finger, and just looks at Thor. Thor finds he can't read Loki’s expression at all. He blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. 

"I couldn't find you." It comes out a little upset, almost accusatory.

Loki's brow furrows a bit.

"You weren't in any of the usual places,” Thor continues, “Not even the kitchens or the training grounds."

Loki’s expression remains unchanged. "Why would you think I'd be in any of those places?" he asks cooly.

Thor almost says, "Because that's where we always go," but that hasn't been true for a long time. He thinks for a bit, and decides to just tell the truth. "Because I hoped you'd be there."

Loki gives a little shrug. "Well, I was here. Do you need something?"

Thor wants to tell him what he’s realized, how they no longer spend time together, how he's been missing him without knowing why, even though Loki is right here, how he wants things to be how they used to be, but he's no good with words. He’s the older brother, he should be more independent than this. So what if Loki doesn’t need him as much anymore? 

"Nah, it's alright. I just wondered where you were."

Loki again looks at him for a moment with that unreadable expression, then opens his book again. "Well, if there's nothing else? I'm a bit busy at the moment."

Thor gives him a sheepish little wave and Loki responds with a thin smile and an arched brow. Thor leaves the library feeling an emotion he can't explain, even to himself.

\---------

That night, Thor has the first nightmare he can remember in a while. Sure, he has the regular scary dreams of all boys his age—suddenly finding himself at a formal ball without a stitch of clothing on, biting into a delicious treat only to find all his teeth falling into his lap one by one, kissing a beautiful woman only to pull back and find the face of his brother staring back, flushed and hazy with pleasure—anyway.

This one is truly worthy of the nightmare title. It starts out normally enough, a mirror of the day’s activities reflected back slightly wrong. He finds himself searching for Loki, visiting all the usual places just as before, then heading to the library where he knows he will find Loki waiting. But this time Loki is not in the library. Neither is he in the throne room, or the dungeons, or down any of the twisting turning corridors Thor finds himself following. Every now and then he would hear Loki calling for him from just ahead, catch a glimpse of the edge of a dark cloak turning a corner, catch the gentle click of a closing door, and he would run a little faster. But the hallways never end. They twist in on themselves, mirroring and splitting. There are always more rooms to search, and Thor gets lost, alone in a mirror of his home. How can he find his brother if he cannot even find himself?

He awakes suddenly in the dark, sweating and panting, unsure what is real and what is the dream. Where is Loki? Why does Thor feel like someone who had missed a step in the dark, and instead of hitting the landing just keeps plunging deeper and deeper into the abyss?

\---------

Loki is roused from his bed by a knock on his bedroom door. He pulls a green dressing gown on over his light tunic and leggings and knots it tightly before answering. Thor is standing there wrapped in the soft blanket from his bed. He is wearing only sleep pants, hair loose around his shoulders, messy from tossing and turning, face red and eyes teary.

Loki is immediately on guard. "Thor, what's happened?"

Thor gives a big sniff, more tears rolling down his face. "Had a nightmare," he mumbles. "Couldn't find you." Thor looks at him, guarded but hopeful. "Can I... can I stay with you?"

Loki hesitates.

“Please?” Thor adds, in a quiet voice.

Loki is taken aback. Thor never says please, not to him. Thor thanks him, sure, after he already has what he wants. Takes Loki’s acceptance as a given, trading him a sunny grin or a clap on the shoulder for the liberties he takes. But he never goes so far as to say _please_. Loki hasn’t seen Thor upset in forever. He… he can’t turn him away. 

"Sure, if you want," he says almost flippantly, stepping aside.

To his shock Thor doesn't immediately go to his bed to steal the meager covers. Instead he reaches out and pulls Loki to him, wrapping him tightly in his arms. He just stands there, grip slowly getting tighter and tighter, making little hiccupping breaths into Loki's neck. Loki awkwardly raises a hand and starts patting Thor's back. If anything this upsets Thor more, and he clings to Loki like a limpet, like he’s afraid Loki will disappear. Loki rubs his palm in soothing little circles against Thor’s broad back. "There, there, it's all right," he murmurs quietly.

Loki awkwardly shuffles them over to his bed and manages to pry Thor off for a moment, getting him horizontal and tucking his blanket tightly around him. Loki quickly hangs his dressing gown back over the chair near his dressing table, then goes around the bed and climbs in beside Thor on the other side. Instead of lying down beside Thor he sits up, back against the headboard. Thor turns and slings an arm across his lap, tucking close and seeking comfort. Loki’s hand pets through Thor’s hair, combing and smoothing, and Thor gradually stills as his hiccuping breaths even out.

“Loki,” he murmurs at last.

“Hmm?”

“I looked for you, but I couldn’t find you.”

“As you said. The nightmare. But I’m here now Thor.”

“I feel like...” Thor pauses, trying to find the right words. “I feel like you haven’t been here for a long time.”

Loki looks down at him, puzzled. “Where have I been then?” 

“I don’t know. You were always there, and then suddenly you weren’t. I just…” Thor trails off. His fingers stroke over the cool sheets, tracing the wrinkles in the fabric. Finally he says, simply, “I miss how we used to be.”

“How we used to be?” Loki says hollowly, hand stilling in Thor’s hair. “What, shining golden heir and his weedy little brother? Lacking even in honor, strange and cold? Not even worth wasting a kiss on?”

“No—” Thor tries to interject, but Loki forges ahead.

“You might look back on those days with joy, but I can’t live in your shadow forever brother,” Loki says, quiet and cool. “Nothing grows well in darkness.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t know you felt that way, Loki,” Thor says, tucking his face tighter against Loki’s bony hip.

Loki says nothing. He turns his face away, gazing out into the dark corners of the room.

“I’m sorry,” Thor says at last. “I’m sorry you felt that way, and that I never knew. Or, I guess, never paid enough attention to realize.”

Loki turns back to look at Thor, shocked. 

“You’re right,” Thor says, in a small voice. He tightens his arm over Loki’s lap, sliding his warm palm up his side. His thumb rubs against a sliver of Loki’s skin, exposed where his tunic has ridden up. “Nothing grows well in darkness. But. Maybe we can stand side by side, in the sun. Neither of us in shadow.” 

Loki is quiet for a long time. Finally he shifts, tucking Thor’s head slightly closer into the curve of his body, fingers running through his hair once more.

“Maybe we can,” he says, quietly.

Thor presses a small kiss to the jut of Loki’s hip.

Loki’s breath freezes in his throat.

“Kisses spent on you are never wasted, Loki,” he says, voice hoarse. “Please don’t feel that way.”

They sit there in the dark for one long moment that stretches on and on, crystalized.

Finally Loki moves to lie down, wiggling and shoving at Thor until he's arranged to Loki's satisfaction. They end up face to face, one of Thor’s arms over Loki’s waist and the other serving as a pillow, draped with Loki’s silky black hair. Loki leans closer and presses an answering kiss to Thor’s forehead. It tastes like ice, like salt, like the memory of a small hammer held tight in a trembling fist.

“Go to sleep,” Loki murmurs at last, lips brushing Thor’s brow again.

And Thor, surrounded by his brother's scent, with his brother's cool body pressed against his, and his brother's soft voice in his ear, does just that.

Loki follows him soon after.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and Thor realizes that he has always taken Loki for granted, and Loki realizes that he is permitted to want, and Loki is loved and appreciated and they rule together as co-kings after Odin's passing and they bring balance to the kingdom and love to each other's lives the ende 
> 
> vetrbjörn - I just googled the old norse words for winter and bear and every website gave me a different answer so I just picked two that sounded okay and stuck em together like legos, sorry if this is completely wrong but it’s already been done no changing it now


End file.
